Aranel
by Linneleth
Summary: Mikhaella, childhood friend of Arwen, seeks safety in Rivendell, where she meets Legolas in a time of upheaval and trials. As the threat of Mordor looms over all of Middle Earth, how could they let go of the love they just found? *Pls Read and Review!*
1. Chapter 1: A Meeting

*note: Hmmm...the usual...alas! I do not own Middle-Earth or the Lord of the Rings. They belong to the genius who gave my life meaning, Tolkien. Hail!  
  
*This is my first fan fic so be nice....please take into consideration my age...I'm but 15, and an under-grad student busy with growing up and school work. All corrections and comments welcome. Hantale!  
  
Aranel  
  
by Linneleth  
  
Laughter rang out among the Elves of Imladris, known to men as Rivendell. The tall and beauteous beings drew near to the bridge that connected the elvenhome to the rest of the valleys in the outskirts of the Misty Mountains. They raised their arms and called out hearty greetings in Elven as a group of travellers drew near to the entrance of their home-valley.  
  
"Suilad!" "Suilad!"  
  
At the foot of the bridge stood an Elf maid clad in white, with hair as dark as the shadows of twilight and eyes the color of the grey evening, calm and possessed of great beauty. She smiled, and her face, which seemed to be ageless, suddenly took on a youthful countenance. "Welcome, Princess of Imladriel!" she called out as the travellers stopped at the foot of the bridge.  
  
Another Elf maid stepped forward from the gathering of elves who had just arrived. "Hail, Princess of Imladris." She was like the first in height and grace, but she was as light as the other was dark. The rippling waves of her hair were as sunlight poured from the heavens, and her white arms and clear face were without flaw. She was clad in soft green and gray, and she wore no ornament. Her beauty needed no embellishment. Her eyes were the clear green of the woods, and they gleamed warmly as she greeted Arwen Undomiel, the daughter of the Lord of Rivendell.  
  
Arwen, the dark-haired one, came forward and extended both hands towards her in greeting. "We've been waiting for you, meleth. It brings me great joy to see you once again, Mikhaella --- safe and hale."  
  
Mikhaella, daughter of the Elf-king of Imladriel and childhood friend of the Lady Arwen, smiled back as she regarded her friend with shining eyes."Nay, Arwen, the joy is mine, I assure you." She grinned in girlish delight, "Why, look at you! You haven't changed at all since we last met!"  
  
The two had parted ways when Mikhaella was but a young adolescent. Her father had thought it was best for her to go back home and spend more time in serious study, not in the care-free, happy-go-lucky realm of Rivendell, where she could be easily distracted. It had been one hundred and fifty two years exactly since the two last saw each other, though they had kept in touch through letters and missives that they sent when one ambassador would visit the other elfhome. They had been girls when they met, although Arwen was a good century older, and instantly felt a connection to each other; now they were women fully-grown, but the bond was still there.  
  
"But you have, Mikhaella." Arwen stepped back to observe all the details of her closest friend,"In 100 and 52 years you've grown!"  
  
The princess of Imladriel gave a laugh, as clear as the sweet gurgling brook,"I've come of age, my friend."  
  
Arwen smiled in agreement. "I can see that." She tucked Mikhaella's arm around hers as they were wont to do when they were children,"Come, you must be weary from your travels. Did you have a safe journey?"  
  
"Safe...and uneventful," the other answered, walking with Arwen up the stone steps that led to the magnificent Homely House of Elrond, the father of Arwen and the ruler of Rivendell.  
  
"Rivendell has not changed much, I see." Mikhaella observed as they walked through the graceful arches constructed by elven craftsmen of old. The arches were a predominant feature of the Rivendell architecture, displaying both beauty and strength. The timeless beauty and serenity of Rivendell seemed to both gladden and sadden the princess. Arwen wondered silently why.  
  
"Father seeks to preserve as much as he can," Arwen said softly, "Especially now that ---" She cut herself off and fell silent, not wishing to voice out her troubles.  
  
"Yes?"Mikhaella prodded gently, looking closely at her friend,"You can tell me, Arwen. You can feel it too, can't you?" They paused and looked at each other. "That sense of darkness...of evil....it's in the air and the ground and the water..." Her eyes were troubled, "Something's not right in the land. In Imladriel I felt it the strongest, and so did Father."  
  
That was why she was sent to Rivendell in the first place. Her father had thought it safer for her to be there. He had sent her away, and Mikhaella was not sure why. But being the obedient daughter that she was, and looking forward to the fact that she would be reunited with her dear childhood friend Arwen, she went.  
  
"Something's wrong." Arwen said softly, "I know not what it is, exactly. I do not think anyone does. But Father has been ever-watchful these past few weeks, and I think he knows something's afoot. Any Elf can sense it. It seems to be coming from the southern regions of Mordor....We are fortunate to have not been as badly affected by this...this thing...as the rest of the land."  
  
Mikhaella was silent as the went on. From not quite so far a distance there came a peal of laughter from the Elves of Rivendell. The singing of the Elves reached their ears...the perpetual music that surrounded the enchanted valley that was Arwen's home.  
  
"The laughter of your people ring out still in your city," Mikhaella said quietly,"The merry-making still goes on and the lively joy of your people has not been quenched. It's been quite some time since my ears have heard the music of our people."  
  
"Does no one sing anymore at Imladriel?" Arwen asked, surprised and more than a little dismayed.  
  
Mikhaella shook her head, her smile long gone. "Not for the past months." She kept her eyes on the path before her. Seeing the splendor and joyfulness of Rivendell brought memories both bittersweet and poignant. Imladris was nowhere near as unaffected by the darkness in the land as Rivendell was. Not a trace of internal devastation or gloom could be found in the elvenhome's gardens and walls. Mikhaella wondered at how Rivendell could have not been changed by the happenings in dreaded Mordor, as Imladriel was.  
  
"My father has the Ring, Vilya," Arwen answered her unspoken question,"It protects the city from the darkness that has been spreading. But if ever the hordes of evil do arise, even Rivendell can offer no protection against them."  
  
Mikhaella looked at Arwen. "Rivendell alone stands uncorrupted among all the elvenhomes on this side of the Misty mountains," she said, "You are fortunate, Arwen."  
  
Arwen only extended a hand to her. "Let us welcome you to Rivendell's protection, then." she said gently,"Come. Father is eager to see you." 


	2. Chapter 2: Reverie

*Note: As always, any corrections in grammar or matters relating to Tolkien's world would be welcome. Ideas and suggestions, too. Thanks.  
  
*Yupyup, I'm working on this as fast as I can. It's going to be a long tale...no Legolas as of yet, but let me assure you...he's coming....wink  
  
Chapter Two  
  
No more was said of the dismal topic until they stood in front of the Lord Elrond, ruler of Rivendell. Upon seeing them enter Elrond stood, left the gathering of noblemen and courtiers that were assembled in the room, and greeted Mikhaella with a genuinely welcoming smile on his ageless face.  
  
"Meneg suilad, Mikhaella," he said, extending his hands and kissing her cheek in the fashion of the Court. Grave he seemed, and as wise as always; he was revered by both men and elves alike, and his name was legend throughout these parts. Mikhaella looked on him like she would a second father, and she admired him mightily.  
  
"Meneg suilad, my Lord Elrond," she said with her eyes downcast, the picture of maidenly propriety. Elrond looked at her, pleased."You have bloomed during the time you've stayed away," he said, embracing her,"T'was a girl who left us and a woman who returns...an accomplished and beautiful young woman." There was pride in his voice, and Arwen smiled in agreement.  
  
Mikhaella laughed. "One hundred and fifty-two springs have passed, yet I see that your tongue is still as sweet as ever, my lord." Then she said, more seriously, "It was good of you to allow me to stay here, and it is good to see you."  
  
Elrond smiled, "Well, I am sure that the two of you have a lot of catching up to do," he said, turning back to the council that he had left so abruptly,"I have to finish up some business. Excuse me for now. I shall see you both again at supper." Arwen and Mikhaella murmured their farewells to him and departed, looking at each other with girlish delight.  
  
Elrond paused a moment before going back to the council, gazing after his daughter and the princess of Imladriel as they walked away hand-in-hand. He smiled. Truly, it did Arwen a lot of good, he thought. Arwen was too headstrong; someday she would get into trouble with all her ideas of leaving Rivendell to aid the other races in their fight against the darkness that was arising from Mordor. The Elves of Rivendell could not help them anymore than they already have. Mikhaella could use this time in Rivendell to heal...for she had taken the fall of her home to heart. Elrond could sense the turmoil in her despite her outer facade of calm. She was hurting inside, as was his daughter. Arwen was in turmoil too. Arwen needed Mikhaella to keep her preoccupied, from going nearly mad with the knowledge that Rivendell was near helpless in assisting the troubled land in these dark times. She did not understand...what could Rivendell do? Interfere in matters that did not concern them? Besides, Elrond's hands were tied. His responsibility was for his people and for Rivendell alone.  
  
How little he knew that all that was going to change...  
  
_______________________________________________________________________  
  
Mikhaella and Arwen, meanwhile, strolled slowly through the marble passages of the last homely house. The air was warm and carried the scents of fresh greens and flowers. The sun shone gently on the valley of Rivendell, and no darkness had descended upon its green majesty as of yet. It was as if spring and the freshness of all things living and not resided eternally in the realm of Elrond.  
  
Mikhaella was still, absorbing the peace and serenity of the place. Turning her face to the sun she sighed as the its warmth caressed her, warming her heart which had been icy for so long with fear and apprehension. The lines of tension eased around her face, and for once she looked as young and as fresh as her young (*to the elves, that is*) 1350 years. She was no princess, no daughter of an important ruler, no one save a young woman who sought only a moment's respite from the worries that plagued her.  
  
Arwen looked at her and sighed. "You should not worry yourself so, Mikhaella. I am sure everything is alright."  
  
"How do you fare, Arwen?" Mikhaella asked softly, changing the topic, not wishing to speak of matters that were dark and weighty in her mind,"How fares Aragorn?"  
  
For years she and Arwen had been friends; they kept nothing from each other. Mikhaella knew of the love Arwen bore for the mortal son of Arathorn, the Dunadan Aragorn, whom she and Arwen had called Estel in their days of childhood ignorance and bliss. And she knew of the love Aragorn bore for Arwen in return.  
  
Arwen looked sad for a moment. "He is ever in my thoughts, and in my heart," she said truthfully, "Though he roams far and away from here I have no doubt he'll return." She gave a sigh,"There has been no other for me, Mikhaella. And I will have no other."  
  
"Ah," Mikhaella said simply. She reached out and took Arwen's hand. "I envy you, Arwen." Would that I be able to experience the wonder of your emotions...to feel so much for someone --- "  
  
"Your time will come," Arwen laid an elder sisterly-hand on the younger elfmaid's cheek, "And I would that you do not feel my sorrow when you do feel the love."  
  
Mikhaella closed her eyes and smiled. "Even in your sorrow you grow strong at the mention of your love--" She opened her eyes---"I would not mind the pain if that is the price I'd have to pay to experience emotions as powerful as yours."  
  
Arwen smiled sadly,"Then, meleth, you'll have to fall in love with a mortal to feel such pain."  
  
As always, it was the issue of mortality that resurfaced every time they spoke of Aragorn. Even as girls they'd been aware of it; now, as a young woman grown, Mikhaella still longed for the love that Arwen and Aragorn so obviously felt for each other.  
  
"Would I really find what I'm looking for? I hope I find it soon...I feel so alone, Arwen."  
  
"Love finds you, not the other way around." Arwen corrected gently, "And as for when---well, it's all up to Fate. But never fear, our people have the luxury of time."  
  
Mikhaella remained silent, her eyes misty with many thoughts and secret longings. Her far-away look was not lost on her friend, who silently sat beside her. Arwen thought of Aragorn.  
  
"Do you know of Aragorn's well-being? Is he safe?" Mikhaella asked.  
  
"Oh yes," Arwen replied, placing a hand over her heart, "Believe me, I would know if he has come to harm. He is out here still, doing his duty."  
  
Once again Mikhaella felt that longing for her own love, to pray for, cherish, and devote herself to. A companion through the Eternity that all Elves faced. Mikhaella did not wish to face it alone.  
  
Tbc... 


	3. Chapter 3: Evil News

*Yep, this takes forever. What with upcoming exams to worry about and my personal life....sigh Please review! The reviews are all I live for!!!/i Chapter Three  
  
The days passed swiftly by in the House of Elrond, and in that time Mikhaella and Arwen walked, rode, sang, practiced archery and swordfighting (as a child Mikhaella had been trained in the use of the bow while Arwen had learned the way of the sword), and laughed, enjoying themselves mightily. The last homely house was never still; elven minstrels and musicians played and sang, perpetual merry-making resounded throughout its halls, and the voices of the Rivendell elves sang always. All things good and fresh were present there, and Mikhaella spent her days in peace. But within her she knew that this serenity could not --- would not --- last. All around them so many terrible things were happening. There were dark rumors throughout the land, and tales of shadowy creatures being abroad by night AND day. Elrond could be seen pacing the floors of the halls, his noble brow wrinkled in deep thought and worry. Sentries were positioned on stations that went further and further from the elvenhome, and the city's defences were doubled. There was little doubt that there was something afoot.  
  
But one day came when messengers arrived from the woods, bearing urgent news for the Lord of Rivendell. And all their fears were confirmed, and the darkness slowly made its presence felt even in the sheltered nook of the valley that housed the elvenhome.  
  
Mikhaella was not with Arwen when it happened. She was in the gardens, where she spent most of her time those days, helping the gardener water the delicate-looking blooms. Movement from within the House caught her attention, and she looked up.  
  
Their clothes a flurry of silver and white, Elrond and several of his advisers walked purposefully and swiftly by. The looks on their faces and their hurried steps sent a tingle of warning down Mikhaella's spine, and she straightened. "I'll return in a while, Uthaer." She dropped her gardening tools and followed, not heeding her state of dress, nor Uthaer's startled, worried look.  
  
The members of the court were already gathered in the courtyard of Elrond's House. With them, too, were several green-clad Elves who wore drawn expressions on their faces. They were scouts who were tasked by Elrond to oversee the border of the elfhome. Mikhaella wondered as to why they were not at their patrol, then decided that they must have been summoned by Elrond to report.  
  
The foremost of the scouts, a tall Elf with anxious blye eyes, stepped forward. "Urgent news, my lord. I'm afraid it cannot wait."  
  
Elrond brushed aside his followers, skipped the formalities and went straight to the point, looking the elf in the eye, "Has it occurred?" he asked quietly.  
  
"Yes." The look in the elf's eyes did nothing to alleviate Mikhaella's anxiety. Something was wrong. "They've been sighted near the woods, a few miles off the Bruinen."  
  
"How many?" Elrond's face was grave.  
  
"Five, my lord."  
  
Five? Five what?  
  
"I see," said Elrond slowly, "Return to the Bruinen and send a few scouts east, then west to where you spotted them. But whatever you do, do not alert them to your presence. Now excuse us; we must discuss what course of action to take." With a swift turn, his robes whirling in the air, Elrond walked swiftly to the inner chambers of his House, his followers not far behind. The scouting party was left in the courtyard. Their leader, the Elf Elrond had spoken with, stood to the side, eyes darting nervously about. Mikhaella could not recall seeing an elf more jittery. Normally those in Elrond's employ displayed the usual stoic detachment of emotions that their lord Elrond usually did. Something must have shook the elves greatly, for them to be in such a state.  
  
Wiping her not-so-clean hands on her skirt, she stepped forward and stood before the leader of the scouting party. "Master elf, may I speak with you?" she asked gently.  
  
Turning to look at her, the elf noticed her for the first time. Though she was quite dishevelled from her gardening, there was no mistaking her gentle yet regal demeanor, nor her astonishing beauty. Most, if not all, of the inhabitants of Rivendell knew of the great friendship their Evenstar had with the princess of the kingdom of Imradriel. The elf recognized her. "My lady," he gave a bow, then straightened. "What would you have of me?"  
  
"Your name first, good sir," she said.  
  
"Hundir," he answered.  
  
"Hundir, you spoke a while ago with the Lord Elrond. You said something about five...individuals. I ask you now, what are you talking about?"  
  
His eyes grew wider. "You do not know?"  
  
"You are the messenger. As far as I know, only you and Elrond know of the matter. Please do not leave me in the dark. I would really like to know what is going on." Mikhaella raised pleading eyes to his.  
  
Hundir hesitated. "My lady, do you really want to know?"  
  
Mikhaella was deadly serious. "I do."  
  
Exchanging a look with the rest of the scouting group, Hundir decided to give in, first looking around to make certain no one could overhear. "Very well, my lady. The Lord Elrond and I were talking about five intruders who had passed through our territory and have made their way through to the Bruinen area. The intruders aren't ordinary intruders, hence the need for caution and further deliberation. They were Nazgul, my lady." he finished quietly. "Five of the foul creatures. And so near elven lands! 'Tis almost unheard of. Yet it has happened. We saw them with our own eyes."  
  
Mikhaella, pale, echoed. "Ringwraiths? But how...? Why?"  
  
"We believe they are hunting someone...or something." Hundir looked to the direction of the House of Elrond. "But I cannot say more, for that is all I know. You may have more luck with the Lord Elrond himself."  
  
Nodding, mind awhirl, Mikhaella murmured,"Yes, yes. Thank you, Hundir. Good luck."  
  
"Good day, my lady." Hundir bowed, then went off with the scouting group. Mikhaella watched them leave, then walked back to the house, looking up once at the darkening sky. Even the heavens seemd to foretell the dark times ahead. She shivered, then quickened her pace. She had to tell Arwen. 


	4. Chapter 4:The Decision

**To all those who reviewed: thanks!!! You guys don't know how much happiness you brought into my life. I'm trying to update as soon as possible. *** To la reine lauren...gimme five! Fifteen's the best age to be!!! grin Whoa, that's a HUGE compliment, and I mean HUGE. I never did any of this stuff before. Just got inspired by the movie and the books, I guess. :) Checked out your story....Veeeeeeewy NICEEEE! :) I got classmates in the band and they play the violin...oops, getting out of topic. Thanks again! ***All suggestions, corrections and comments welcome. Tell me what you think. Story line suggstions welcome as well! :)  
  
Chapter Four  
  
Safe in the privacy of their private chambers, the tale poured out of Mikhaella. Arwen listened in silence, eyes widening only upon the utterance of the word Nazgul. When the princess of Imladriel was done, Arwen stood and went to her closet. Mikhaella looked on in astonishment as Arwen brought out her weapons of choice---two sharp knives---and wrapped them securely in cloth. Bringing out several blankets and two cloaks, Arwen then proceeded to pack them compactly inside a small sack, her movements swift and efficient, using economy of space.  
  
Waiting for an explanation that she realized would not be volunteered, Mikhaella asked, "What do you think you're doing?"  
  
"What does it look like I'm doing?" Arwen finished packing, throwing her dark-green cloak around her shoulders,"I'm going after them."  
  
"Are you mad?" Mikhaella exclaimed in astonishment, "By yourself? Arwen, listen to me....the Black Riders are out there... near Rivendell! It's not safe to venture outside the elfhome! Elrond would never permit---"  
  
"My father is now holding council, you say. I know what he plans to do. He's sending all the warriors that can be spared into the hunt for the one who the Black Riders are seeking," Arwen interrupted her, leaving their quarters. Mikhaella made an impatient noise and followed her outside. The two strode quickly down the hallway. "He'll send them to comb through the perimeter near where they were originally sighted...to the north, south, east and west of the Bruinen territory. But there are few who would dare ride out against the Nine, and it would cost us time...time that we do not have. I shall be assisting him, Mikhaella."  
  
"What is the rush? As long as they don't breach the elfhome's defenses, we don't have anything to worry about. I know their presence is threatening, but really---what have we to fear? They would not dare try to invade our home---"  
  
"It's not just that," Arwen said quietly. They'd reached the courtyard. "There is something far more important at stake."  
  
"Important enough for you to risk your life? Arwen, you needn't do this." Mikhaella touched Arwen's arm and made her pause. Her worry for her friend was evident in her emerald eyes. But Arwen's gray ones were calm and firm,"I must, Mikhaella. You see, my beloved is out there too."  
  
For a moment Mikhaella was speechless. Then she whispered, "Aragorn? How?"  
  
"You were told the Black Riders were hunting for someone. Aragorn is with him, doing his best to ensure his survival and that he reaches Rivendell. Once he reaches us he is safe from the clutches of Sauron." At the mention of the dark lord's name Mikhaella shuddered and involuntarily murmured a counter-curse. She turned to Arwen,"Sauron? The Dark Lord himself is involved in this? Why?"  
  
"I cannot tell you now," Arwen looked up at the darkening sky, "We have not the time." Her steps took her in the direction of the trees where the horses of the Elven nobility were tied.  
  
Mikhaella nodded. "Alright." She strode forward, grabbed the reins of her horse, Telumendil, and brought the mare forward. "You can tell me on the way."  
  
"What do you think you are doing?" Arwen demanded in a parody of what Mikhaella had asked her just a short while ago.  
  
"I'm going with you." Mikhaella stated simply. "Do you think I would face the Lord Elrond alone and tell him that I let his daughter run off into this mad quest all by herself? No, I would not!" She finished readying her horse and with one agile movement swung herself onto its back. She looked down at Arwen, her brow raised and her expression expectant, "Well?"  
  
Arwen held her hand and squeezed it. "Thank you."  
  
Mikhaella smiled. "Come. We must hurry, you said."  
  
The two rode out of the gates and into the valley, then eventually they rode out of Rivendell. The guards made no move to stop them since they rode almost everyday, and so they thought naught of it. It was almost sunset when the presences of the princesses were missed, and their absence discovered. But by then it was too late. The elves were just ready to mobilize their scouts. There was nothing for the Lord Elrond to do but to send a prayer to the heavens that the Valar would keep them safe.  
  
****  
  
The two who had set out crossed the gates, then the bridge, and then out of the valley of Rivendell. The sky had darkened considerably since that morning, but there was still sufficient light to highlight the lush green landscape that lay before them. The mountain peaks of the Misty Mountains loomed over the valley of Rivendell like sentinels. The elvenhome itself seemed to glow and sparkle with amber and golden hues, sheltered in the emerald arms of the valley. Suddenly this pure dwelling-place seemed to Mikhaella all the more precious as she turned around once to gaze upon it. It was hard to imagine that the forces of Mordor lurked so near...  
  
Arwen, being true to her word, then explained to Mikhaella just how dire their situation was. It took one sentence, and then Mikhaella realized with dawning horror the predicament they faced. "The Nazgul's presence so close to Rivendell could mean only one thing: the Ring is nearby, and they are searching for it." Arwen said quietly as they rode west, in the direction of the Bruinen.  
  
Nazgul. The Ring. Words Mikhaella had heard in myths and legends, in stories handed down from generation to generation. All Elves knew of the Legend of the One Ring, Sauron's Creation and the holder of his essence. They knew of the Doom that came along with the coming of the One Ring as well. And this was why the Black Riders were abroad...  
  
"Eru preserve us." Mikhaella whispered, comprehension dawning in her eyes. "The One Ring is abroad...Evil stalks it..."  
  
"And the Ringbearer, who Aragorn has sworn to protect." Arwen further explained. "We must assist him and the Ringbearer. The Ring MUST stay out of Sauron's hands. Rivendell is the only safe place we can bring him to. To entrust this task to anyone else is folly, for many have already fallen prey to the Dark Lord's manipulation."  
  
Nodding, Mikhaella absorbed all this. Though she hadn't known the danger she was inviting when she decided to go with Arwen, now she did...and did not wish to be anyplace else. She wouldn't leave Arwen alone to face this. Nor would Arwen, if the situation was reversed. They were almost as close as sisters.  
  
"We can make it to the area where the Nine were last spotted in one and a half day, but it will be a hard ride." said Arwen, scanning the landscape before them. "But if we decide to be careful and take it slow, it'll take two."  
  
They sprang away, riding swiftly in the direction of the Bruinen. Their elf- horses, swifter than the steeds of men, did justice to their kind, speeding on like the wind on hooves that barely left marks on the trail.  
  
Deer, rabbits, and other animals sped out of their way. Mikhaella looked up at the trees as they travelled beneath their shade, wondering if she was just imagining it, that the forest seemed darker somehow. More shadows, less sunlight; more still, uncomfortable periods of silence when not even an animal called; and the forest air devoid of the music of the birds.  
  
"The darkness grows," Mikhaella said softly. Telumendil snorted beneath her and glanced about uneasily, sensing the difference more acutely than her rider, perhaps.  
  
But Arwen sensed it too. "They're not too far off. Hurry." In the elf- tongue she called to her steed: "Noro lim, Asfaloth." Hearing its rider call, the elf-horse gave a leap and quickened the pace. The two sped on. 


	5. Chapter 5: The Ranger

Chapter Five  
  
***(some lines taken from the movie.....) ***btw I own none of the characters (aw, shucks!) save for Mikhaella! :) Just stating the obvious...:)  
  
The importance of their quest struck a heroic chord in Mikhaella---one that had lain dormant for so long but had been awakened before by the same person who did just that on that fateful day the messengers came to Rivendell, Arwen. But as they went on in their excruciatingly hard pace (Arwen pushed them on untiringly, stopping very seldomly only if they direly needed to), covering miles faster than the scouts of Elrond, Mikhaella, sore and tired from their exertions, began to think most unchivalrous thoughts about this Ringbearer they were risking life and limb to find.  
  
But by dusk they'd reached their destination, and had left Rivendell far behind. Mikhaella drew Telumendil to a stop, both horse and rider appearing thoroughly exhausted. And indeed, they were. "If we go on at this pace, Arwen, we'd be of not much help to the Ringbearer at all." Mikhaella sighed and looked up at the sky, with the full moon rising slowly above the tops of the trees. "I propose we stop and rest."  
  
Arwen seemed to consider her request, bu as she opened her mouth to speak, she suddenly stiffened and cocked her head the side. "Lasto," she whispered: Listen.  
  
Asfaloth neighed a warning, and Telumendil stamped her hooves skittishly. Mikhaella strained her ears to hear, and sure enough, her keen elven ears detected a slight scuffling sound in the woods beside them.  
  
Crack.  
  
There. Someone was trudging through the thicket with all the stealth of a wild boar. Surely it could not be one of the elven scouts, for no elf produced such noise that others could hear their approach from far off.  
  
Quietly, she dismounted and tied her horse to the tree, keeping off the road. Arwen followed her example and the two elven princesses turned toward the direction of the sound, looking for the source. Arwen had her daggers, and she tossed one to Mikhaella for her to arm herself in case it was a hostile creature.  
  
They had not far to look. Before long their silent footsteps led them to a most unusual creature who they found on his hands and knees on the grass, looking through the foliage with a distressed look on his face. He was short of stature, but he was not one of the Dwarf-folk, for he did not have the long beard and stout stature. He had strange hairy feet no dwarf possessed, and his ears were as delicately pointed as those of the Elven- folk. What manner of creature was this?  
  
"A hobbit," Mikhaella whispered in amazement. She'd heard of them, but had never actually laid eyes on one until now. What was a hobbit doing so far from Bree and the Shire, their homeland? she wondered.  
  
The hobbit, who had not yet been alerted to the presence of the two, kept his gaze fixed on the ground. He was shaking his head sorrowfully to himself and muttering, "Kingsfoil, kingsfoil....have to find that kingsfoil, oh, where is it when you need it?"  
  
Silently, with the stealthiness and grace of a deer, Mikhaella strode forward, plucked a nearby specimen which she'd easily spotted with her superior powers of sight, and touched his shoulder with it. "Athelas," she murmured the Elvish name of the medicinal plant. At the sound of her voice, however, the hobbit jumped a foot high into the air.  
  
"Oh, my lordie," he gasped, staring at them with eyes as wide as saucers,"You're...you're...you're Elves!!" he was going to say something more but it was lost as he seemed to strangle a bit in his amazement and awe. He was utterly stumped, and Mikhaella felt a twinge of compassion for the poor thing. She had an inkling of how utterly unusual and unearthly she and Arwen must look to the exhausted hobbit. To him they seemed to radiate a certain glow and aura...like ethereal nymphs of the legends of old, especially with their pointed ears, delicate features and Elven grace. The fact that they were ELVES made all the difference to the hobbit, who was no one else but the inexpendable Samwise Gamgee.  
  
"I believe you were looking for this," she said, extending the plant to him, her face and voice comforting and not in the least threatening. She peered closer at him. There were circles under the hobbit's eyes, and he appeared drawn and pale. The hobbit looked very tired and strained almost to the point of breaking. Who knew what horrors he'd been through...  
  
"Thank you..." he stammered, taking the offered herbs,"My lady..."  
  
"You choose a strange time to go herb-picking, good sir," Arwen said, coming forward with a reassuring smile,"Many perils await you in these parts."  
  
The hobbit's face grew taut with remembered anxiety,"You mean those Black Riders? Y-yes...we know...we've run into them already."  
  
Arwen and Mikhaella exchanged glances. "How many were they?" Arwen quickly asked. Mikhaella put in: "We--?"  
  
"F..five..."stammered the hobbit, "And we...five of us as well. Me, Pippin, Merry, Frodo and Strider. We mean no harm, honest! We just want to get to Rivendell as soon as possible. You see, one of us has been hurt pretty bad, and Strider said these weeds would help," he gestured with the kingsfoil.  
  
"Where are the rest?" Mikhaella asked. At the hesitant hobbit's look she added,"We'd like to be of help. We mean no harm as well. Tell us your name."  
  
"Back there in the glade," the hobbit replied,"Er...the name's Sam, short for Samwise. Samwise Gamgee from the Shire."  
  
"Well, Samwise Gamgee of the Shire, lead the way."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
They walked with the hobbit for a short distance through the underbrush. Sam, sensing that the two really meant to assist and not to harm, eagerly brought them to the glade. The moon glowed and sent a shaft of undiluted moonlight to shine gently on them. Arwen and Mikhaella stepped forward silently and appraised the scene before them.  
  
A tall figure stepped forward and confronted them. A male voice, low and rich, demanded,"What's this, Sam?" A glint of metal told them that he had a weapon, a long sword that looked very much at home in his comfortable and capable grip. This man would not hesitate to use it.  
  
Mikhaella began to speak to pacify him,"We're Elves from Rivendell, come to help..." she paused, then looked in astonishment as Arwen went forward and stood directly in front of the tall human.  
  
Breathing rapidly, Arwen cast her cloak back and bared her face to the man. "Is this how you treat the woman you love, son of Arathorn?" she asked in a voice that Mikhaella had never heard her use before. It was soft and full of a strong emotion she could not easily name. Mikhaella stared.  
  
The man, his face hidden, stepped forward and the moonlight shone on his amazed and joyful countenance. "Arwen?" In that hoarse declaration was a wealth of feelings. The sword dropped from his hand.  
  
And Mikhaella then realized that this was the beloved of Arwen.  
  
"Aragorn," Arwen whispered. The two went forward and into each other's arms, and held each other in a tight embrace. The world ceased to exist around them in that moment....  
  
Mikhaella felt tears in her eyes as she witnessed the lovers meet after being parted for so long. She turned away and wiped them off, stifling a sigh. Her heart was joyful for her friend, but... Oh, how she longed for a love of her own to cherish and hold dear....  
  
Aragorn and Arwen began speaking softly in Elvish.  
  
"It has been too long, my love." said Aragorn.  
  
"Aye," assented Arwen,"Far too long." She looked up at him, suddenly serious,"I received your message in Rivendell. You say you safeguard the Ringbearer? Where, then, is he?"  
  
Aragorn stepped back, and a shadow fell over his features. When he stepped backward Mikhaella and Arwen saw the rest of the party.  
  
"Frodo is in most need of your help," stated Aragorn as Mikhaella and Arwen stared in dismay at the sight before them. Two hobbits knelt before the prostrate figure of a third (Frodo), whose eyes were closed. His skin was pale and sallow, and his breathing was labored. There was a nasty gash on his chest area, but though it ws not so large, it was quite deep. The skin around the wound had turned into an unusual color of green, and a putrid odor escaped from it. Mikhaella could not help but wince when she saw it.  
  
"He was stabbed by a Morgul blade," Aragorn explained quietly as Arwen knelt before the wounded hobbit. "This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs Elvish medicine."  
  
Arwen inspected the hobbit worriedly. Beside her Aragorn laid crushed athelas on the wound. Some of the herb's good essence would help slow down the evil poison permeating his being, but it would not be enough to stop it.  
  
"Frodo," Arwen gazed in the Ringbearer's eyes,"Im Arwen, telin le thaed."She spoke in Elvish, attempting to combat the evil effects of the Nazgul with her own powers,"Lasto beth nin, tolo dan na ngalad..." :Listen to my words, come back to the light. It was an age-old chant of the Elves to combat malevolent forces and the like. But Frodo only took in a gasping breath, his face turning blue, and in that moment Arwen and Mikhaella knew that they could not do enough for him. He was too far gone.  
  
"This is beyond even me," Arwen bowed her head in dismay, then stood,"He is fading. We must get him to my father."  
  
  
  
***More to come soon....please tell me what you think of it so far. Oh yeah, and Legolas appears in the next chapter (whew! at last!)... :) 


	6. Chapter 6: The Chase

Chapter Six  
  
Aragorn looked up from the hobbits and Arwen to find the other elfmaid standing quietly at the side. In the darkness he had almost missed her. Noticing confusion in his grey eyes, Mikhaella answered his unspoken question with a gentle, "Estel, it is I, Mikhaella. Do you not remember?"  
  
A shocked pause. "Mikhaella??" Aragorn stepped closer, eyes wide.  
  
After his astonishment passed, recognition dawned in his eyes, and a smile crossed the weary face of the Ranger, "Mae govannen, aranel. It has been too long, too, since I've seen you last. You have grown up." He shook his head in wonderment.  
  
"Mae govannen," Mikhaella stepped forward and gave him a warm hug, remembering their childhood and how he'd been like an older brother to her, "Indeed, it has been too long. I only regret that we meet under such trying times." She looked up at his face and saw the shadows that lay in his eyes. "Do not fear, Aragorn. Everything will be alright." She glanced at Arwen, and her friend smiled wearily back at her.  
  
A choked cry from Frodo tore them away from their momentary reverie and had them kneeling around him. Aragorn bent and took the hobbit in his arms. "Which way?"  
  
Arwen and Mikhaella led him swiftly to where they had left the horses. Crossing to Asfaloth, Aragorn gently deposited the hobbit on the saddle as the other hobbits and the two Elven princesses watched. Frodo swayed weakly, but Mikhaella held him fast.  
  
"We've been looking for you for two days," Arwen spoke as Aragorn secured the injured hobbit, "There are wraiths behind you. They were spotted by a patrol near the Bruinen, and they alarmed my father. How many they are exactly, or where they are now, I do not know."  
  
Aragorn turned to her and spoke quietly in Elvish so that the other hobbits, who were listening to every word that was uttered with obvious interest, would not understand: "Stay with the hobbits. I wil send horses again for you."  
  
Arwen shook her head fiercely, "I will take him; I am the swifter rider." This was true, and Aragorn knew it. Yet he persisted, "The way is deadly."  
  
But the daughter of Elrond would not be daunted. She looked at Frodo, who would already have collapsed if not for the hands of Mikhaella holding him steady, "Frodo is dying. If I get across the river in time, the power of my people will save him." She turned back to her beloved, and in her eyes Aragorn saw her determination. "I do not fear them."  
  
The Ranger glanced at Mikhaella as if expecting her to help him persuade Arwen to change her mind. Mikhaella only nodded. With a sigh, Aragorn consented grudgingly, "As you wish." He knew that Frodo would fare better if he reached Rivendell quicker.  
  
Arwen grasped his hand and gave him a reassuring smile. Trust me.  
  
I do. Aragorn pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. The gesture was done with so much love and tenderness that Mikhaella's heart ached. She turned her head away lest they see the tears in her eyes. She did not want to be pitied.  
  
Aragorn helped Arwen mount Asfaloth with Frodo in front of her. The hobbit's head lolled forward weakly.  
  
Mikhaella mounted Telumendil. Aragorn turned to her but before he could say anything, Mikhaella laid her hand over his and said softly, "Do not worry, Aragorn. She will not come to harm. I swear it."  
  
Aragorn nodded. "Ride hard." he said, "Don't look back."  
  
And then the two were off, their horses two streaks in the night sky, leaving behind one solitary Ranger and three frightened hobbits.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
The ride back was not like the ride they had before. This time they rode with one clear purpose: to reach Rivendell before the Ringbearer succumbed to the dark forces acting upon his body. This time they rode with fierce desperation, for his life was at stake. And this time, they were fleeing pursuers --- the Nazgul, who had felt the Ring travelling abroad and now stalked it.  
  
At first their presence was like an evil cloud at the back of the elves' minds. Something Mikhaella could sense, but could not see. Ignoring the prickles of foreboding, the two thundered on through the land, following Aragorn's last advise: Don't look back. But by the time dawn broke and cast its light on the land and on their surroundings, the enemy was a malevolent force that made its presence be seen.  
  
Mikhaella turned around on her saddle -- and they were directly behind them. All nine of them --- evil beings cloaked in blackness that seemed to swallow whatever light that touched it, regardless of the dawn breaking in the skies above. They rode on black steeds that did not seem to be of the mortal realm as well --- black demon-horses, pursuing Arwen and her with deadly intent. But what they were really after was the hobbit that was already ailing in Arwen's arms---and the Ring.  
  
"We are being followed," Mikhaella cried out to Arwen.  
  
Arwen's face was pale against the glow of the morning sky, "We must not let them get to us," she shouted, "Head for the River!"  
  
"No!" Mikhaella drew alongside Arwen's steed, her hair flying all around her, "I'll lead them away. You make for the ford. I'll head east along the Bruinen..."  
  
"We cannot split up!" Arwen protested, "We'll become more vulnerable ---"  
  
"Trust me!" Mikhaella slapped Asfaloth's flank, and the gently-bred elf- horse reared and bounded away. Arwen twisted around and stared at her in horror and dismay. Mikhaella looked after her, breathing hard. She reined Telumendil in and hastily bundled up her cloak to make it look like she was the one who was cradling the hobbit that the Ringwraiths were desperate to find. Then she looked back at their pursuers.  
  
The Nine were meters away, but they had slowed down. Clearly they were at a loss, not knowing which Elf to follow. Arwen was a white speck in the distance by now. If anything, Mikhaella had bought her precious time.  
  
"I am the one you want!" Mikhaella shouted, rearing up Telumendil, "If you want the Ringbearer, come and get him!"  
  
Her ploy worked. With shrill shrieks that echoed in the ground and in the sky, the Nine set out after her.  
  
Heart racing, she wheeled Telumendil around and rode east at a full gallop. She'd done it! She'd drawn them off Arwen's tail! Now the Ringbearer would have a chance...  
  
Telumendil was panting heavily. She was clearly exhausted from the previous night's ride, and Mikhaella was making her gallop at break-neck speed...  
  
"Noro lim," Mikhaella whispered, urging her horse onwards. Their lives --- and the Ringbearer's -- depended on her and Telumendil's last ride. She did not dare think of what would happen in the event that they DID get caught by the Ringwraiths...what was important was that Arwen make it to Rivendell.  
  
Telumendil obeyed, exerting all the remaining strength she had in her reserves, and sprang forward with a new burst of speed. The Nazgul thundered behind her, their demon-horses panting heavily but not showing any signs of slowing down. The Nine themselves were fully intent on their quarry. They would NOT lose her.  
  
They raced across the forest trail --- the elf-princess and the Ringwraiths --- coming at last to a section of the Bruinen, with its rippling waters and grey rapids.  
  
Mikhaella let out a sigh of relief. If the Bruinen was this close, then Arwen would most certainly have made it across. Now she had to deal with the Nazgul whose shrieks of wrath announced that they were drawing ever- closer. The dull thud of their horses' hooves grew in volume, making Telumendil put forth a burst of speed with strength born of terror. The elf- horse skittered down the river bank and gave a mighty leap---and plunged into the icy water, fighting for footing against the strong current.  
  
Mikhaella gasped as she was momentarily submerged, for the water was cold and deep, even with her on top of the gallant Telumendil. When the horse surfaced she was able to gasp out, "Noro, Telumendil!"  
  
The horse gave several mighty kicks, and managed to draw nearer to the other side of the river bank.  
  
Mikhaella, soaked and exhausted, heard several splashes behind her. Whirling, she saw that five of the nine Nazgul had followed her into the icy waters of the Bruinen. Dismay flooded through her. She'd counted on the river stopping them from pursuing her, thinking that the Nazgul, like the goblins and the other lesser creatures the Dark Lord had under his thrall, would detest having to go through pure, running water. Evidently the Nazgul suffered no qualms about that particular detail, or they were stronger than she realized...  
  
A shout. Then, a zing of some fast object that was hurled from the other side of the river bank. Something whizzed by her ear and struck the foremost of the Black Riders. Through dazed eyes Mikhaella saw that it was an arrow. Someone was shooting at the Nazgul! She jerked her gaze to the riverbank just as another arrow flew by her and struck the next Rider, who shrieked loudly, more out of rage than pain, for ordinary arrows were not lethal to them.  
  
An Elf dressed in green and brown sat on top of his steed, long bow drawn. Mikhaella stared at him, amazed at her good fortune. A rescuer! At last!  
  
The strange Elf raised his hand and waved at her. "Tolo, nin brennil!"* he shouted, notching another arrow into his bow. With obvious skill he levelled the arrow in the direction of the Riders and fired yet again. His shot was true. The injured Nazgul gave a harsh screech and halted. Now they were floundering in the icy rapids of the Bruinen.  
  
Mikhaella, meanwhile, had managed to reach the other side of the Bruinen in safety. Carefully guiding Telumendil up the few remaining slippery feet, she looked up and beheld her rescuer up close for the first time, and her breath caught in her throat. 


	7. Chapter 7: The Elf

Chapter Seven --- THE ELF  
  
*** I'm sorry this took so long...I'll follow this one up with a new chappie soon. I promise!***  
  
Tall and noble he was, and as handsome as the sons of kings. His gaze was keen as he looked down upon her with worry and concern, and Mikhaella felt as if she was punched in the gut as he gazed down at her with the power of his brilliant blue eyes, which reminded her of the color of the wild, open sky, upon her. The sun shined down upon him, giving him a halo-like effect with his golden hair. He looked like a young god. Never had she beheld so fair and noble a countenance, even among the royalty of Imladriel and Rivendell.  
  
For the first time in her life, Mikhaella, daughter of the Elf-king Tal- Amroth and princess of the elven realm of Imladriel, was speechless.  
  
"Are you alright?" he demanded, one hand reaching out to touch her shoulder in concern while the other led Telumendil to higher---and safer---ground.  
  
She nodded, recovering her wits. "I am fine." Thanks to you. She steadied Telumendil as they turned to watch the dark horsemen struggling in the grip of the icy Bruinen, whose waters had suddenly become even more turbulent than before. Odd...the water was not nearly as unmerciful a few moments ago...  
  
The Elf raised his bow, looking sideways at her until she met his gaze. "Do you want me to finish them off, my lady?"  
  
Confused that her heart seemed to beat faster whenever those blue orbs were directed at her, Mikhaella fervently wished that she was in better shape, and that her emotions weren't as high-strung. The fear, anxiety and strain of the past few days had robbed her of her usual calm and aloof demeanor --- the demeanor that had been drilled into her through centuries of being the daughter of the elf-king of Imladriel. She returned his gaze with a calm look that did not mirror her inner turmoil. He was just an elf, she told herself, why did she react so?  
  
"Sir, your arrows may wound them, but they cannot kill them. These...creatures...are not of our world." She repressed a shudder as she thought of how nearly she'd gotten into their clutches. "I thank you for coming when you did."  
  
He lowered his bow, his brow furrowed. "Those creatures are as foul as the darkness of Mordor," he said angrily, "How came you by them?"  
  
"That, my lord, is a long and tiring story," Mikhaella shifted on top of Telumendil to wrap her cloak around herself so that she would not be so cold. She was safe now, she reminded herself. It was clear that the Nazgul were never going to make it to their side of the river. The waters wre growing deeper and frothier as each second passed. The Riders, hissing wrathfully, began to turn around and make for the side they had just left. Mikhaella could only watch, numb. She couldn't even summon the feeling of relief.  
  
A strange wind blew around them, stopping the Riders and making them pause. The same strange wind made the fine hairs on Mikhaella's skin stand. She shivered, sensing the subtle change in the air around them. Some Power was at work; she recognized the signs immediately. But whose?  
  
"Arwen." She whispered, and shut her eyes. Her friend had made it, after all.  
  
"There is something coming, my lady." The voice of the Elf beside her was low, "I can feel it."  
  
The next moment the wind howled, bringing the sound of the whispered words of a spell floating to their ears; speaking in the Elf-tongue:  
  
Nin o Hitaeglir lasto beth daer....rimmo nin Bruinen dan in Ulaer...  
  
The echo of the voice faded away as quickly as it had come, but the sound was replaced by a low, dull roar that seemed to come from a distance....beyond the riverbend. The earth trembled at their feet, and the horses neighed in fear. The Black Riders saw that the water level was rising rapidly, and tried to make it back to the safety of the shore; but then all hell broke loose.  
  
From around the riverbend came a great roaring and rushing --- and the waters of the Bruinen, invoked by the Elvish spell, flowed and overwhelmed the Black Riders in a great rush of wrathful water. It was so quick, they didn't have time to flee before it --- they were borne away as the wave broke on them in a terrible rush. Their cries were lost as they disappeared beneath the roaring water.  
  
Mikhaella and her rescuer recoiled in shock as they watched the great wave finally break and roar away. The waters of the Bruinen settled back into that imperturbable state, as it was before the spell had taken effect. It flowed on as if nothing had happened. The wind blew gently once again, and in the distance, the birds began to sing.  
  
Mikhaella realized that it was over---the exhausting ride, the desperate gamble for time, the pursuit....  
  
An overwhelming sense of relief engulfed her, leaving her feeling weak and spent. She laid her head against Telumendil's warmth, letting out a soft sigh that barely stirred the gentle horse's mane.  
  
The Elf who had rescued her watched her with hooded eyes. They took in her dusty, travel-stained robes that, for all their wear, still spoke of noble blood because of the finery of their making; and her weary face. Yet for all the dust and grime, he saw that she was beautiful, with eyes that reminded him of his beloved forest home's fresh leaves.  
  
"It is over," he spoke, reaching out hesitantly to touch her shoulder, "You have nothing more to fear."  
  
Mikhaella met his gaze. "Yes, it is over." She smiled wearily, "I owe you a debt, my lord. You do not know how timely your arrival was."  
  
"I was passing by when I heard the splashes in the water. I could not just leave and ignore a damsel in distress." He smiled back. He was totally without arrogance and hauteur; she was drawn to him at once.  
  
She extended a dusty hand, slightly reddened from holding strained reins for a long time, "Mikhaella of Imladriel, in your debt, my lord."  
  
He took her hand and kissed it, dust and all, his eyes never leaving hers. When his lips touched her skin it tingled, and Mikhaella felt a jolt of awareness through her body. She bit her lip, unsettled. He made her feel strange.  
  
"Legolas of Mirkwood, at your service, my lady." He said. He still did not let go of her hand.  
  
Legolas. "Laeg" for green and "Las" for leaf. A very fitting name for a Wood-Elf, and for such a noble specimen, at that, Mikhaella thought. It registered on her that he was still holding her hand...  
  
It wasn't proper, and it was not ladylike of her at all to allow him such liberties but as Mikhaella looked down at her hand in his, all of these thoughts just slipped from her mind like melting snow upon spring's arrival. It felt good to have him hold her hand; he was warm and firm---  
  
Mikhaella flushed and looked away from their joined hands. Desperate to look anywhere else but at their hands, she raised her gaze to his.  
  
A mistake.  
  
His eyes---as blue and clear as the skies---showed the promise of wit, intelligence, and strength of character. And as she looked into them, she felt that she could fall into those deep blue depths and never ever want to get out.  
  
And right now he was looking at her intently in a way that made her feel terribly self-conscious. She was painfully aware of how dishevelled and dirty she must look to him. She looked away, not trusting herself to speak.  
  
Oh, this will please Arwen mightily, knowing that for once in my life I had nothing witty or clever to say...  
  
But then he lifted her chin with his free hand, and gazed at her face, checking for injuries. Mikhaella felt her heart beat faster, and a warm glow began to spread through her. He was concerned, and he cared...  
  
"I...I am fine," she managed to say in a voice that sounded strange and breathless to her own ears. "Thanks to you." There. She'd put her original thoughts into words.  
  
He looked down at her intensely, not saying a word. Almost unknowingly, his thumb moved to gently caress her cheek. Mikhaella's eyes drifted close. What was he doing to her? Whatever it was, it felt...right. She did not feel that he was taking advantage of her or anything like that...his actions were gentle and non-threatening; and she wanted him to never stop gazing at her in that way.  
  
At last he spoke: "You're beautiful."  
  
And to him she was. She was drawn and weary, yes, but her face was like nothing he'd ever seen before. Fair as all their people were, but not in that way that most elfmaids were fair---her skin was flushed with health and touched by the sun. Her features were not lovely in the sense that they were perfectly proportioned, but were bold and strong. Her gaze was uncertain because he was a stranger to her, but when she looked at him she did so with a certain straight-forwardness that he rarely encountered in a female. And her eyes---they amazed him; held him enthralled. Green they were, and as clear and vibrant as the lush forests that he loved to call home. What luck, what hand of Fate had brought him to one such as her?  
  
He moved closer, ignoring the whinney of his horse and the snort of Mikhaella's. Something was at work here, he could feel it as surely as if it had been a spell. But it wasn't. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before. "My lady, may I ask a boon of you, for rescuing you?"  
  
Mikhaella simply nodded. It was so with all Elvish debts. She owed him her life, and could not refuse him. What would he ask for? Gold, perhaps, to compensate for his time? Somehow she didn't think so. "Ask for it, my lord, and if it is within my power to grant it I shall. But if you need gold, then I would ask you to wait and claim it a later time---"  
  
"There is no need to wait," he said, and look in his eyes gave her pause, "I claim it now." And with that he bent and kissed her.  
  
Shock rendered Mikhaella immobile, but she had naught to fear. His kiss was light, and as gentle and as unthreatening as his caress. His lips on hers made her feel dazed, yet within she felt the ice in her melt away, banishing the cold and the fear. She closed her eyes and surrendered to him. Let him claim his boon, it was little enough to ask for.  
  
He broke off the kiss as gently as he started it, and straightened. He looked into her eyes and was silent. He was aware of an intense jolt of desire...and joy. She was the elfmaid he'd rescued, and now---she stirred his feelings in a way no one ever did before. Certainly not just having met her...and certainly not after sharing just one kiss. What magic did she weave upon him, what Force had brought them together? Gazing at her now, he could not believe that a mere hour ago, he hadn't even known she'd existed. Now she was here, within his grasp, looking lovelier than ever, flushed from his kiss; and he could not envision life without one such as her to inspire him to be a better man.  
  
"Mikhaella," he said her name like a prayer, "Mikhaella."  
  
She smiled at him with no guile, no shyness. He was struck anew at how rare and beautiful she was. "Legolas." 


End file.
